


Journal of Prof. J. English, Master Hunter

by alwaysUncertainouo



Series: Faerytailstuck [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Journal, Other, brief sadstuck, hunting journal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 23:45:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4412597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysUncertainouo/pseuds/alwaysUncertainouo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vriska coughs, glaring at Kanaya for blowing the dust right into her face. "Well?" She demands.</p><p>"'Well' what?" Kanaya counters, not even looking away from her translation notes.</p><p>"You know damn well, 'What!'" Vriska snaps, scanning the room again; as if in the last ten seconds the enemy had managed to infiltrate their weak, temporary base and she had any hope of protecting herself. "Is it the right book or not?! What does it say on the record-card?"</p><p>Kanaya is silent a few more minutes - then her body tenses and her eyes narrow. She holds up the card and reads it aloud:</p><p>"'The recovered Final Journal of the esteemed Professor Jake English, Master Hunter of the Unknown and respected member of the Arland community. He died to warn us - in the end, it just wasn't enough.'"</p><p>((all journal entries are written and revised - however, this story will only update as the journal entries are discovered in the series's main story, "Trivial Fursuits". think of it as a horror game: you know how it begins and you know what ended it, but the middle of the story is what REALLY happened.))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prof. J. English, First Entry

Farming, 15.412-08

Journal of English

It is quite a shame to be starting this new journal just as it seems my work is ending. I have taught all that I am able to teach, now that I am old every young weed half as sorted as I am is setting out to adventure, returning having accomplished much greater feats than I have in years. Le Sigh, as one of my old friends used to say, a young lady with a sharp mind and voice like honey. She could always be found with a rifle in one hand and a spirit in the other. I must say it’s quite heart-punching to think about her again... but, if I’m on the subject of old friends I might as well update my journals. It was so hard when they passed, all those years ago, I suppose I forgot to write about them when the time first came that I should.

That lady friend, her name was Roxy. Roxy Lalonde, the smartest shot in the village - in more ways than one. I recall she once earned the moniker ‘Foxy Spotter’ when we were teens, on account of her feminine charms and marksmanship. It didn’t stick very long once she began teaching the adults how to better the tech. If that woman wasn’t drunk when you saw her though, you could be sure something horrible had or was going to happen. Since about the day she was born she’d been attached to one bottle or another of alcohol. She said once that some days she’d just wake up too miserable to drink, and later in the day someone would be caught in an accident or a house fire. Other times she’d be in the middle of a nice day and just suddenly feel as rotten as if she’d betrayed a good friend, go to sleep sober and wake up to hear that one of her neighbors had passed on during the night, no idea of the cause. A few ignorant adults here and there would try to convince the council or the elders that she was some sort of soul-sucking demon, a misfortune succubus if you will, a temptress misleading everyone and feeding off those who were unlucky.

Thankfully neither of the councils would hear any of that bullcockery! Of course, luck or no luck, sickness shows no mercy to anyone... not a lunar turn after her wedding, both she and her husband were found dead in their tea-room. We were never told all the details, nor did we seek any. Deep down, I don’t think we ever really wanted them. Without learning the exact disease, I and our two other friends found them: they were on the floor, and there was blood and shoe-oil all over everything, including the... bodies. A neighbor said they’d heard loud coughing fits in the night, assumed it was like all the other nights she heard them, and had gone to bed thinking she’d be meeting us for tea as planned.

We never told this to Janey, poor dear... but Dirk and I always believed that Roxy knew she was going to die. That she wanted all of her friends over to see them one last time. The lack of alcohol anywhere near her house all but proved it to us, but we never said a word to Jane as long as she lived. Dirk even took it to his grave. He was such a nice bloke- I think I may have liked him, just a bit! He was sooooooooooo cool, every second of the day! He did everything ironically, just about, except of course when it came to his horses. Dirk could never hold back with his horses!

As sudden and unpreventable as his death was, I’ll always regret not being able to stop it. Hell, even just being there at the time may have put me at ease, somewhat! It just seemed so impossible at the time considering Roxy had only just been buried a week or two before. Just to clarify, Dirk was originally some type of lone-wolf nomad type, wandering the lands and passing through hundreds of towns before we’d (well, Roxy mostly, clever girl!) managed to convince him to stay. One way or another, one of Dirk’s old flings had tracked him down. One way or another, it seemed the horses were anxious enough without the cad challenging Dirk to a brawl. No one knows how or even when it happened exactly, but Dirk was found impaled on the windmill by his foreign-made sword, headless, and only a messy note that looked written with grass left behind to explain.

I actually can’t remember much of the note. It was half paraphrased when it was read to us anyway... Basically it said that they hated Dirk for leaving, he deserved what he got, and they were taking Dirk’s puppet back as a souvenir or a trophy or whatever. I’m upset and angry again by just the memory!! But... heh, there are quite a lot of ‘buts’ in these paragraphs, aren’t there? ... But Dirk was killed in the barn by a shot in the back while mucking out the horse stalls. There was blood in a pile of straw, and whoever took Lil’ Cal did so and left. Doctor said the head was pulled clean off instead of cut. There was also no mention of beheading in the letter, nor any blood anywhere between the barn and the windmill, and the only tracks were from the horses fleeing into the wood. It had been days since anyone had seen Dirk so his death-day and the day he was stuck on his ‘mill are both still unknown. I don’t think I’d ever cried in front of Janey before that day. Sure I’d cried for Roxy, I’d be a heartless cad if I hadn’t, but only once the funeral was over and Dirk had escorted Jane home. She died not too long ago.

Considering her family’s super-secret-recipe bakery-dynasty, the three of us always joked with her that she’d either love the cakes enough to be poisoned by the ‘Batterwitch’ (Roxy’s nickname for Jane’s grandmother, Betty Crocker), or she’d be so rich by the time she was old enough to marry that she’d forget about us forever. Her mother grew very ill instead, and locked the family recipe books in some secret place. Without any recipes to sell, Janey was skipped over entirely as heiress, and she and I were never separated.

We weren’t in love. A crush here, a thought there, sure, but we knew we wouldn’t last as husband and wife, just based on how we’d gotten on without being bound together! But neither of us married otherwise into our old age. Two lunar turns before she died, presumed peacefully until some kind of venomous bite was found on her throat, she told me she’d been fretting about things. These I do remember clearly: “About Roxy dying so suddenly, and Dirk’s head missing from anywhere...” “I’ve never seen the recipe books since then, and mum recovered her sickness almost immediately after hiding them...” “Why have we never married?... Not each other, you ninny, but anyone? Since Dirk passed I’ve not so much as looked at anyone but you; before, I’d have a date at least every other turn, which he always gladly chaperoned for me... Now I don’t want anyone.” I wasn’t so worried of course - it’d been so long since I’d worried about anything but my students at that point. Not to mention I never dated in order to miss it.

It is a bit ~~trobling~~. Troubling, excuse me. It’s gotten late; I tried lighting a candle but it keeps flaring up and burning the wick too quickly for the wax. Not to mention, a little discouraging, my chest is a bit constricted by this ~~pari~~ perusal through my ~~mamories~~. Fucking dickens NO NOT those! Memories my MEMORIES. I think its time for me to sleep or else i may find myself writing about something ludicrous!

Prof. Jake English


	2. Prof. J. English, Second Entry

Preparation, 31.412-10

Journal of English

This is going to sound daft. I’ll sound like a mad old codger to my own journal! But I can’t fight my desire! I’m going to go back to my youth. I can’t be anything like I used to, but... well, I don’t even know why, but it’s like i can FEEL myself want to do this! I won’t do anything stupid, I’ve learned too much for that when I was in my prime! I’ll start with ‘exploring’ the forest, right? I would have liked to start on the beach, seeing as it’s much safer with the other villagers near to lend a hand, but because this stroke of genius hit me in the Preparation season it would be too cold to do much of anything. Being old is difficult. It is difficult and nobody understands!

Either way I don’t really expect to find anything exciting this late in the turn. Only smaller creatures like mundane fauna and the occasional ghoul or blood-drinking sparrow live around here.

Prof. Jake English

**Author's Note:**

> beacause several entries are very short, each journal entry will eventually include an illustration of the journal PAGE; that way you can see roughly what the characters are seeing while also enjoying the luxury of black-and-white, easy-to-read text


End file.
